


the sandwich

by dandelionlighters



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I Am Sorry, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionlighters/pseuds/dandelionlighters
Summary: In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. But the earth was without flavor, and tasteless; and darkness was upon the face of the hungry.Then, God said, “Let there be a sandwich.”And there was a sandwich.
Relationships: Alaric Saltzman/Death, Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman, Malachai “Kai” Parker/Sandwich
Comments: 55
Kudos: 218





	the sandwich

**Author's Note:**

> hi, this is for the legacies slytherin’s challenge thingy. it’s a collab by @harmoclexaHosie, @simonvsfoxes, @kaischaos, @josiesaltyman, and me, hope you enjoy it :)

In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. But the earth was without flavor, and tasteless; and darkness was upon the face of the hungry. 

Then, God said, “Let there be a sandwich.” 

And there was a sandwich. 

The sandwich changed forms as they lived. In their early years—first century BC, to be precise—the sandwich consisted of chopped nuts and sliced apples between two matzohs. By the sixth century, the sandwich was a large piece of meat shelved between thick pieces of stale bread. At last, the sandwich developed into their most evolved form in the twenty-first century:

A honey-ham, lettuce and tomato, cheddar-cheese, sentient sandwich. 

Their creator? 

God—by essence—but Malachai “Kai” Parker, by hand. 

He constructed the sandwich with great reverence, with loving eyes and careful fingertips. The sandwich’s delicate, pale loaf did not once turn to mush in his grip, and a single drop of delicious sauce fell not in his attentive grasp. 

The sandwich noticed that the man’s touch was caressing, like a breeze of wind against the sandwich’s inner layers, _there_ but not overly heavy. In fact, the sandwich felt safe with Malachai, as if they would never suffer the vile sting of stomach acid.

No. Malachai would not so easily devour them. He would not eat them. The sandwich would not be forced through the sickening, narrow path of an esophagus, would not be forced down the unrelenting tubes of a human’s intestines. Instead, the pair would remain together forever...at least, until the sandwich grew sick with mold. Age was a factor, after all. 

“Alright, honey-ham,” Malachai murmured softly, gazing directly into the sandwich’s very soul. God, did they _love_ that nickname. “I’ll be right back.” 

He then patted the sandwich gently and left them on the kitchen counter. The sandwich watched the man go forlornly, trying not to feel the way their tomatoes scraped roughly against their lettuce—achingly, like they would never be complete again. 

Was this what humans called heartbreak? The sandwich imagined so. 

However, they did not have much time to ponder that particular thought when the kitchen door opened once again. This time, two figures appeared in the entrance. They were holding hands. 

“Shhh, someone might hear us,” the brunette on the right giggled, but the sandwich observed that she did not bother to lower her own voice. Peculiar. 

The one carrying an insulated bag rolled her eyes, but an endeared smile managed to stretch across her lips. “It’s five o’clock on a Saturday morning. Trust me, no one is awake right now.” 

The brunette pouted and said nothing, staring the other girl down as they came to a stop in front of the counter, right next to the sandwich. The shorter one huffed as her companion unlaced their fingers very pointedly. 

“Do you want me to make you a sandwich or not?” She crossed her arms, and the sandwich found themselves quite offended that the two hadn’t noticed them yet. 

“Fine,” the brunette relented with a whine. She lifted herself up onto the counter and started to swing her legs. “But hurry, I don’t want to miss the sunrise.” 

“So impatient,” the other girl muttered, but the sandwich did not think that she sounded very annoyed, but quite taken by the brunette, who smiled softly, even though her friend wasn’t watching. 

The short one began to rummage through the refrigerator, taking out some jars and a loaf of bread. The sandwich watched as she expertly cut the bread and started to stack some ingredients on it. 

The sandwich zoned out, remembering the way Malachai had treated them so kindly. Oh, if only they could feel his hands on them again...

“Hope, please.” When the sandwich snapped back to attention, the two were arguing. 

“For the last time, Jo, I’m not putting mustard on your sandwich,” Hope said, throwing the yellow bottle back into the fridge. “That’s disgusting.”

“What? Compared to your _yucky_ mayo?” Jo threw herself forward and retrieved the bottle, setting it back on the counter. She then elbowed the nearby jar of mayonnaise into a trashcan close to her. 

Hope gasped dramatically, glaring at the brunette as she picked the jar carefully out of the trash. “How dare you!” 

They continued to banter, and the sandwich became distracted by a new, unfamiliar voice. They startled, looking around for the source. 

“That _bitch_ manhandled me.” The one that had spoken up was the _other_ sandwich Hope had been making, left forgotten in the ongoing argument. 

“You look fine,” the sandwich tried, lying right through their melted cheese. In all reality, the other sandwich looked horribly put-together. A spare pickle was dangling out of their left side, and their layers were an utter mess. 

“Cut the cheese,” they said, and the _well-made_ sandwich tried to think of something to say as the sound of a glass breaking reached them. 

“ _Oh_.” The sandwich was horrified to discover that the girls’ heated debate had instead turned into a heated make-out session, with the brunette back on top of the counter, the shorter girl standing between her legs. 

The jar of mayonnaise lay a mess on the floor, shattered into seemingly hundreds of pieces with a giant, pale splat in the middle. 

The sandwich turned their attention back to the couple locking lips just as Hope buried herself into the brunette’s neck and started kissing there, too. 

The sandwich shuddered and looked away, finding a similar expression of repulsion on their new friend’s face as well. Hmm. Sometimes people were hungry for more than just food. 

“Ew,” the other sandwich remarked. The honey-ham sandwich had to agree. They sat in silence for a long moment, the only sound in the kitchen the noise of panting and lips. Until, it stopped. 

_Thank God_ , the sandwich thought. 

“Oh, no!” Jo suddenly pushed Hope off of her, dropping down to the floor. The shorter girl frowned as she watched her. “We’re going to miss the sunrise!” 

She ran off, and Hope watched her for a second or two before following after her with a similar speed, but not before drizzling the new sandwich with mustard and grabbing the pair’s food. 

Quite foolishly, if you asked the sandwich, the shorter girl swiped her hand across the counter in one, quick movement, sending every piece of food on the surface into her insulated cooling bag. 

The sandwich tumbled into the bag screaming, but that _insolent_ Hope did not hear a single sound passed the dull thud of both sandwiches hitting the bottom. Unfortunately, the honey-ham one lost a single slice of tomato on their way down. The sandwich’s new friend did not fare very well, either. 

“I’m going to give that bitch food poisoning when she eats me,” they said, and the honey-ham sandwich bristled. 

“Could you stop cursing, please?” The sandwich believed that swearing was a sin, and God would certainly not appreciate it. 

“Fuck, I’m trapped in here with a goody-goody,” the other sandwich cursed again, now attempting to scoot away from the honey-ham in the bag. They did not move a single centimeter. 

It was very dark in the bag, and the sandwich could not hear anything from outside of it. To add, despite the sandwich’s new company, they felt very lonely. Once again, they found themselves longing for Malachai and his affection. 

When the sandwich saw the light of day again, it was still quite dark. They were jostled out of the bag with a soft hand, then placed on a napkin. 

“Did you pack that?” Jo asked, motioning to the honey-ham sandwich as she shoved her right hand down the bag and grabbed the other mustard one. 

Hope sniffed the air, before curling her lip with distaste. “Honey-ham and cheddar?” 

She uttered the words with obvious loathing, and the sandwich felt...hurt? Surely, honey-glazed ham and cheddar cheese was a great combination, much better than a mayonnaise sandwich, at the very least. “No, I don’t think so. It must have fallen in or something.” 

Hope then reached out and carelessly grabbed the sandwich. They yelped with surprise, a piece of lettuce falling out. 

“Here,” she smiled, holding them up in the air. Oh no. Oh no, no, _no_. “Let’s feed it to the ducks.” 

From this higher position, the sandwich could see their surroundings perfectly. It appeared that the group was on a dock of some sort, overlooking a nice lake and a rather pretty sky shot with streaks of pink and yellow. Some brown and white ducks were sitting by the edge of the dock, searching for food. Behind all of them, was a large building that looked like a school of some kind. 

Just as the short girl prepared to tear a piece of bread off the sandwich, she was stopped. 

“Hope!” Jo scolded, and the sandwich suddenly liked her a lot more. “Bread isn’t good for ducks.” 

“Oh,” the other girl said almost sheepishly. “Sorry, babe.” 

The brunette blushed at the small pet name, glancing away somewhat emotionally. Her eyes then found her own sandwich, and she beamed with the same intensity of the sun rising across from them. 

“Aww, you put mustard on my sandwich.” She sounded so touched that said sandwich grumbled with annoyance in her grasp. The pair did not hear it. 

“Of course I did,” Hope told her sincerely, and their eyes met for a long, sweet moment. When it seemed that they would never tear their gazes away from one another, Jo finally looked down, a blush still adorning her cheeks. The sandwich wondered how the two could act _that_ embarrassed and innocent when they had _just_ been kissing so fervently earlier. 

“If I had a stomach I would spew out everything in it right now,” the mustard sandwich said as they watched the exchange. The honey-ham sandwich tried to nod before they remembered that they couldn’t. 

“True. Do they have to stare at each other like that, right in front of us?” 

“I _know_ right! No human decency, whatsoever!” 

“You’re telling me. Did you see the way she threw us in that horrid bag like trash?” 

“C’mon hammy, you’re forgetting I was there!” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“I will.” 

“Fine, musty.” 

“That’s an insult! My nickname for you was cute!” 

As the sandwiches talked, so did the girls. They discussed insignificant topics like favorite classes and books, hopes and dreams, and some random little facts. The sandwich quickly discovered that this was their first date, although they had known each other for many years before. The girls also threw small quips and flirtatious comments back and forth, and for some reason, the shorter girl kept telling knock-knock jokes. What was worse, even, was that the taller one continued to laugh at them.

An hour passed and the sandwiches grew soggy. Their respective sauces drenched into the skin of their bread, and—unfortunately—one of the girls seemed to notice. 

“Aren’t you hungry, Jo?” She eyed the moist, mustard sandwich. The brunette nodded, bending forward to claim the other girl’s lips without a second thought. Both sandwiches politely looked away once more. 

They separated after a short minute. Hope laughed, swiping her tongue across her bottom lip. Her pupils were unfocused and dilated as she stared at Jo. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “I meant your sandwich, but okay.” 

“Oh,” Jo flushed, biting her own bottom lip. “Right. I kind of forgot about it.” 

The honey-ham sandwich felt their insides freeze to ice as the taller girl picked up their new friend. They pretended not to hear the honey-ham’s screams, no matter how painful it was to ignore such a thing. 

The sandwich had done this for centuries. Watching their friends get eaten over and over again, getting eaten themselves and then being born time and time again. It got tiring pretty quickly, and one could only grieve so much before they began to feel nothing at all. 

Jo took a large bite out of the end and swallowed, silencing the screams. Once she was done chewing, she turned to Hope. “I feel bad eating when you aren’t.” 

“I’m not hungry.” Hope waved her off, folding up the blanket the two had been laying on top of. 

“There’s another sandwich,” Jo pointed out. The sandwich started quietly praying—then shorter girl shook her head. 

“I should probably return that to the kitchen before someone kills me for theft,” she said. “Heaven forbid it’s Alyssa Chang’s sandwich. She’ll crucify me.” 

It seemed that the sandwich’s prayer had worked. 

A couple of moments later, Josie placed a hand over her stomach and groaned. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good.” 

Hope grinned, but she rubbed her date’s back soothingly all the same. “Maybe the mustard was expired?” 

“You better hope so, Mikaelson,” Jo teased, standing up from their crouched positions. It seemed to be too much for her, as she swayed on the spot, choking down a gag. Hope was fast to come by her side. “I should probably go before I throw up everywhere.” 

“I’ll walk you to your room?” 

Jo nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The other girl quickly threw the honey-ham sandwich into the insulated bag, and once again, they were engulfed in darkness. 

When the bag opened again, they instantly recognized the warm glow of the kitchen light. Calloused hands placed them back on their exact original spot on the counter, and the sandwich watched as Hope fled the second their bottom slice of bread hit the surface. 

Funnily enough, not a minute later, her maker appeared through the doorway. Malachai raised his arms and smiled as his sparkling eyes found the sandwich. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The sandwich nearly swooned underneath his attention. “Where have you been, honey-ham?” 

“You would not believe the day I had,” the sandwich said, but Malachai appeared not to hear them. “For hours, I’ve been forced to fourth-wheel on some insufferable couple’s version of a first date.” 

“Aww, you have a bit of dirt on you,” Malachai whispered, running a single digit along the side of the sandwich. They sighed at the loving touch. 

“Yes, well, that couple almost fed me to the birds,” the sandwich explained. “I barely escaped death. It was very scary, I must say.” 

“You still smell delicious, though,” the man told them, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhaled. 

The sandwich nearly melted into a puddle in his hands. “Thank you!” 

Suddenly, Malachai’s eyes shot open and he released the sandwich. He straightened the set of his shoulders and sighed. “It appears that I’m being summoned once again. Until later, honey-ham.” 

The sandwich watched him leave for a second time, but it did not hurt any less than the first. _No_ , the sandwich thought. _Don’t worry. He’ll be back soon._

—

Ten minutes later, Headmaster Alaric Saltzman appeared in the kitchen, a night robe tied around his waist. He yawned and stretched, beginning to search the fridge for a quick breakfast meal. His eyes caught a sandwich waiting for him on the counter, as if begging him to eat the thing. 

He looked around to see if anyone would claim the sandwich, and when no one did, he quickly stepped forward and took a large bite. 

He then choked on it and died. 

The end. 


End file.
